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Word Count: 1,022
When I was thirteen I was set to adopt our cultures present predisposition towards literature So there I was a young student whose last book that was read for pleasure was Holes by Louis Sachar in the fourth grade In the summer before the seventh grade my dad told me about a book called The Hobbit that he had read before He claimed that it was something that I would enjoy and I began reading it However at the time I was told by my friends that only nerds read long books They questioned me on why I would bother unless it was for a project After asking myself this same question and being impressed upon by my friends I took up their simplistic opinion because I wanted to be cool I decided that reading wasnt my thing and stoppedI then began my first day of the seventh grade None of my teachers were impressionable to me This was true until I walked into the last class of the day English I sat in the back row with my back to the wall wanting to get as far away from the attention as I could The room smelled of dust and old pages The bell rang and in walked a six foot four giant of a man He proceeded to walk to the blackboard With the entire classs eyes riveted on his back he began to write In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit This man had a large bulbous nose broad chest wavy blonde hair and dinner plate sized hands He took a seat on a four legged wobbly stool with a tattered seat cushion and spoke directly to the class My name is Mr Whitvoet now those of you who chose the seats on the wall are going to move to the front of the class So being one of those unlucky few I moved to the front row He
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